


The Shortest Distance

by Annaelle



Series: Malec Oneshots [2]
Category: Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, Shadowhunters (TV)
Genre: Like, M/M, Oneshot, Post 1x06, but i like deceiving myself on this, it totally didn't, what may have happened
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-10-28
Updated: 2016-10-28
Packaged: 2018-08-27 13:59:17
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,247
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8404333
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Annaelle/pseuds/Annaelle
Summary: PROMPT:MAGNUS AND ALEC TALK ALL NIGHT POST 1x06Maybe a kiss or something, because there’s no way their first kiss—or Alec’s first kiss in general—on the wedding went that smoothly.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So, yeah, I have never written these two before, but I fell head over heels in love with both of them and when I got the prompt, I just had to write it :D I absolutely ADORE both Magnus and Alec, and I've never written two characters quite like them :D 
> 
> I do so hope they're not horribly OOC -blushes and hides behind hands- 
> 
> So... Yeah. I'll just leave this here. 
> 
> Love, Annaelle

**The Shortest Distance**

**"The shortest distance between two people is a story."**  
**―Patti Digh**

**Alec**

_“I’m not being cryptic. I’m being coy.”_

_—_

Alexander Gideon Lightwood had always enjoyed thinking of the world in absolutes. It had never steered him wrong before, and he had found that making choices was far easier when there were only two ways to look at any given issue. He’d found he quite _liked_ the way his black-and-white way of thinking made life simpler and decidedly less complicated.

There was, simply put, only right and wrong.

_The law is hard, but it is the law._

Said saying had been spoon-fed to him until it was a mantra he repeated to himself when faced with difficult decisions and dubious choices. After all, it was part of his legacy as a Shadowhunter and a Lightwood to maintain peace and balance within the Shadow World, and it was one he took _seriously_.

His siblings had always seemed to have more trouble understanding the necessity of the Accords and the Law, acting out and experimenting while Alec remained quiet. He followed his siblings, of course, when they went out to cause trouble—someone had to make sure they didn’t get themselves killed—but never sought out the many temptations that they did for himself.

He’d worked hard to maintain a modicum of discretion, keeping his head down and not bringing any unwanted attention to himself— _especially not_ when he had begun to realize he didn’t like looking at girls so much as he liked looking at other boys.

It had been easier to pretend he was not interested in anyone at all—easier to refuse to acknowledge the part of him that would _never_ be accepted within the Shadowhunter community, much less in his own family. His parents already thought of him as less than Jace or Isabelle, and while Alec _ached_ to hear that they were proud of him for his accomplishments, too, he was too afraid to call attention to himself.

So he didn’t.

He hadn’t planned to.

Izzy and Jace could be the ones to get married, have children. Alec had resigned himself to a future without a family of his own—he didn’t think he was cruel enough to marry a woman he could never love properly simply to keep up appearances. He’d settle for being the fun uncle who let his siblings’ children play with steles and seraph blades and bows and arrows and such.

He’d never even _considered_ the possibility of _wanting_ a real relationship with someone.

At least not until—

_“You’ve unlocked something in me.”_

Magnus’ words reverberated in his mind still, and no matter how many times Alec had tried to analyse their conversations up until that point, he couldn’t comprehend why Magnus would be interested in _him_.

He was…

There was nothing special about him.

He was just… _Alec_.

And Alexander Lightwood did not _unlock_ feelings in people. He was the forgettable brother—he was a decent leader and a damn good shot with his bow, but he was _never_ the brother people noticed.

He’d given that up early on, and he’d never regretted that.

He’d not regretted giving up _anything._

Right up until the moment his little sister walked up to him and told him he would be married off to the first suitable woman that came along—as though none of his accomplishments mattered anymore. The only thing he was deemed suitable for, apparently, was being the prized cow that would be sold to the highest bidder in order to restore the family honour.

Because he would _adapt_.

 And he was just _so tired_ of it all.

Being the good brother had obviously gotten him nowhere. Doing _everything_ his parents and the Clave had ever asked of him didn’t do him any good now, and while he wanted to rage and kick and scream and simply _refuse_ … He couldn’t.

He couldn’t _not_ do it.

He remembered Izzy’s eyes when she’d told him what their father had told her, recalled the way she had seemed infuriated on his behalf, but also afraid and tired and _relieved._ Because it wasn’t her—she wasn’t the one that would be asked to give up her life in order to clean up the mess his family had made.

Secretly, he didn’t mind.

It would mean he could keep his sister safe, and that she and Jace wouldn’t be forced into a marriage that would only result in unhappiness and resentment. His parents had been right about one thing—for his siblings, he would do just about anything.

And yet…

_“Stay for one more drink? Then decide.”_

He glanced up from beneath his lashes to look at Magnus, who sat sprawled out on a tufted ottoman with a tumbler of whiskey in hand. Alec tightened his grip on the delicate stem of the cocktail glass Magnus had refilled for him— _five_ times—and once again tried to figure out what in Raziel’s name had possessed him to _stay_.

Of course, the obvious answer to said question—that he found Magnus so attractive he could barely remember his own name around him, much less retain his ability to form full sentences or how to say no to _anything_ the warlock suggested—was so far out of his comfort zone that he could barely even bring himself to admit it, even within the privacy of his own mind.

Of course, that is not to say it was irrelevant to his decision.

He didn’t think anyone would believe him—Magnus least of all—if he tried to tell anyone he stayed because the drinks were just _that_ good. They honestly weren’t. Magnus Bane may be many things, but an expert bartender he was not, and it showed in the cocktails he served.

Of course, that still left Alec without a plausible excuse for finding himself seated on Magnus’s black leather sofa—that was, thankfully, no longer covered in Luke’s blood—with his fifth cocktail in hand, four hours after he had initially tried to leave, listening and watching in amusement as Magnus animatedly recounted a story that involved two other warlocks, Peru, and, for some inexplicable reason, a flock of penguins.

It was probably the best time he’d had in years.

Talking to Magnus was both easier and more difficult than he had thought it would be, but the older man had easily picked up the threads of conversation that Alec had dropped, and managed to make the conversation, though stilted and awkward on Alec’s part, feel positively flowing and natural, without any sort of painful silences.

He felt lighter than he had in a long time, and it felt immeasurably good to allow himself this night. Even if he were to sign his life away tomorrow, so his siblings wouldn’t have to, he would have tonight.

It was not fair, but it may be just enough.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, and he glanced down at it in irritation, frowning at the umpteenth interruption of his time with Magnus. He already knew he wouldn’t have a lot of it—he already knew he’d have to give up on what he wanted—but by the Angel, the least they could give him was _one night_.

He jumped when the buzzing stopped abruptly, and his pocket briefly glowed hot with blue sparkling magic before the weight of his phone against his thigh disappeared.

He looked up at Magnus with wide eyes, finding the warlock twirling his phone between his fingers with a playful grin that took Alec’s breath away. “Now, now, Alexander. You’ll make a man feel as though he’s dull company if you keep looking at your phone the whole time.”

He felt his cheeks heat up in an embarrassed blush that almost seemed permanent when he was around Magnus and squirmed beneath the other man’s gaze. “I doubt anyone could ever accuse you of being _dull_ ,” he replied cheekily, glancing up from beneath his eyelashes to gauge Magnus’ reaction, heart pounding heavily in his chest as the words fell from his lips.

It was undoubtedly the most flirtatious thing he had ever said—to anyone, not just the sparkly warlock seated before him—and he had absolutely no idea where the words or the sudden burst of confidence came from.

Magnus, however, seemed oblivious to Alec’s minor crisis of confidence and laughed delightedly, clapping his hands together as he carelessly tossed Alec’s phone aside. “Why Alec,” Magnus smirked, winking at Alec as he leaned forward. “Careful, or I might start thinking you actually _like_ me.”

“Maybe I do.”

Alec was far blunter than he wishes he would have been, but it was the only way he knew how to be.

He _did_ , in fact, like Magnus.

Quite a bit, too, and if they had lived another life, he was certain he could have fallen in love with the warlock—and that thought was almost as frightening as the idea that that _wouldn’t_ happen in this life.

“Oh, Alexander,” Magnus sighed, and Alec’s breath caught in his throat when the older man moved to sit on the sofa before him. Alec watched, frozen in place and with bated breath as Magnus reached out to touch his hand to Alec’s cheek, thumb brushing along his cheekbone. His touch felt like fire on Alec’s skin, leaving tendrils of sparks in its wake, and Alec couldn’t quite contain his gasp of surprise.

When his gaze met Magnus’, he was startled and intrigued to find a pair of gold-green cat’s eyes looking back at him, rather than the human eyes Magnus usually showed.

 _He is so beautiful_.

The thought was so sudden and so unbidden that it surprised Alec—but it felt _right_.

It was _true_.

Magnus was the single most beautiful person Alec had ever seen.

Before he could think it through or stop himself, Alec’s own hand moved, reaching out to touch the soft skin just beneath Magnus’ eye, a startled laugh falling from his lips as Magnus tilted his head into Alec’s touch, eyelids fluttering shut across those _beautiful_ eyes.

“No, don’t,” he breathed quietly, pressing his thumb down on Magnus’ soft, warm skin. “Don’t close your eyes.” Magnus’ eyes fluttered open again, the silver glitter lining his eyelids highlighting the beauty of his green-gold cat’s eyes, even as he dropped his own hand from where it had still been resting on Alec’s cheek.

“What are you doing, Alec?”

Magnus’ words were soft, gentle, but Alec flinched nonetheless, dropping his hand from Magnus’ cheek as he leaned back. “I don’t know,” he admitted quietly, curling in on himself, glaring down at his hands, curled into fists against his thigh. “I don’t know, Magnus.”

He didn’t wince when Magnus’ fingers touched his cheek once again, tilting his chin up beneath the soft pressure of Magnus’s touch to look at the warlock. He was smiling softly, tenderly, even as he let his hand slip down Alec’s cheek until it rested against his neck, pads of his fingers rubbing against the ‘deflection’ rune.

Alec shivered at the touch, drawing his lower lip between his teeth to keep himself from…

From doing _anything_.

“What do you _want_ then?” Magnus asked, unperturbed by Alec’s intense, confused gaze.

“I want to kiss you,” Alec blurted in an embarrassed, stunned whisper, barely resisting the way his entire body swayed towards Magnus when the warlock shifted. Magnus looked at him with a sort of admixture of curiosity and affection and puzzlement, though a soft smile tugged on his lips.

“So kiss me.”

Of all the responses Magnus could have given him, Alec supposed he really should have seen that one coming, but he honestly hadn’t. He hadn’t even considered kissing Magnus as an actual possibility, outside of fantasies, and now that the option had so tantalisingly been offered, he had no idea what to do with it—or with Magnus.

“Oh. I—uh—it’s just—I mean, I—” he stuttered, cursing himself silently— _words, Lightwood, use your words_ —as a blush crept up his cheeks, hands clenching into fists on his lap.

He jumped when Magnus curled his fingers around his wrist, but the touch was grounding and calming, and he felt much less scared suddenly. He had not realized how little space was left between them until he looked into Magnus’ eyes once again. It was a heady feeling to breathe in the air the warlock had just exhaled, and his mind felt clouded, and he honestly could not remember a valid reason to _not_ lean in and kiss the other man—his lips were _so_ close, and it was almost as though Magnus was _calling_ to him, and Alec felt powerless to resist his call.

It took him an embarrassingly long moment to realise that Magnus’ fingers were still wrapped loosely around his wrist, and once he looked back up at him, Alec found he couldn’t keep his eyes off of him.

“I don’t know if I can,” he murmured confusedly, eyes fastened on Magnus’ undoubtedly soft, infinitely tempting lips. “I don’t know if I should.”

Magnus grinned then, the kind of grin that lit up his entire face, and leaned forward. “Come here,” he said, tugging on Alec’s wrist to draw him closer. They moved almost simultaneously after that, Alec’s hand reaching up and curling around one of Magnus’ many necklaces, pulling him closer just as Magnus leaned in, their lips meeting in the middle.

A small, hitching gasp came from Alec’s throat as their lips pressed together chastely, Magnus’ hand sliding up Alec’s torso until it came to rest on the back of his neck. His own fingers tightened their tenuous grip on the necklace Magnus was wearing, dragging the warlock just a little closer before they parted, and Alec stared at Magnus in utter surprise.

He could hear his blood rushing through his veins and he was panting, though the kiss had lasted less than half a minute, and he couldn’t stop looking at Magnus and wanting… _more_.

The warlock seemed fairly stunned by recent events, too, even though he had been the one to lean in first, and was watching Alec with wide eyes and slightly parted lips—and _he_ had done that. It had been his first kiss, had lasted less than twenty seconds, and yet it had somehow made _Magnus Bane_ speechless.

He had to admit there was a small part of him that _relished_ in that thought.

The rest of his mind was, however, currently engaged in attempting to figure how to get Magnus’ lips back on his and how to get them to _stay there_. He didn’t allow himself to think too much on his actions and used his grip on Magnus’ necklace to drag the warlock back towards him.

Magnus gasped quietly against Alec’s lips, but didn’t resist as Alec pulled him in for a far hungrier, deeper kiss, their lips sliding together wetly before Magnus skillfully took control of the kiss and licked his way into Alec’s mouth and— _oh_.

 _Oh, he likes this_.

He was so caught up in what kissing—kissing _Magnus_ —felt like for a moment that he completely forgot how to _breathe_ , how to do _anything_ other than hold on tightly as Magnus kissed him senseless. His hands and arms moved of their own accord, an arm slipping around Magnus’ waist, and suddenly the warlock was in his lap, the other man’s fingers tangling in his hair to keep him in place.

Kissing Magnus felt like an electric shock, his skin burning and tingling deliciously where the other man touched him, and a burning throb ignited somewhere deep in his stomach. He kissed Magnus back fiercely, unpracticed and sloppy, but with everything he had, and anchored his fingers in the warlock’s belt loops as he held on for dear life. 

Magnus groaned quietly against his lips, a deep, wanton sound that sent flames of hot lust straight down to his groin. It felt like a slow fire burning its way through his veins; as though Magnus had lit a fire somewhere deep inside of him that no one but him would be able to quench or satisfy.

Nothing else seemed important anymore; nothing but his lips remaining on Alec’s.

But then he moved again, tilting his head a little, and his tongue slid against Alec’s again—and it was _too much_ , Alec couldn’t _breathe_ , he couldn’t _think_ , he just needed him to _stop_. He jerked his head back, gasping for breath as Magnus stared at him, his lips wet and a little swollen. “I don’t—” Alec choked, “I mean—I can’t—it’s— _too much_ —”

He didn’t want to stop, not truly; but he knew he had to, because if he continued—if he allowed them to continue down this path—he might never stop.

Or he’d explode.

Or both.

“It’s quite alright, darling,” Magnus said easily, though his voice sounded rough, thick with an emotion Alec couldn't— _wouldn't_ —name as he slipped off of Alec’s lap without much of a fuss, curling up comfortably beside him. Alec breathed out shakily and stared straight ahead, his heart pounding heavily against his ribs as he attempted to sort through the tangled mess of emotions in his head.

Of course, as long as he was with Magnus, he was sure he would accomplish nothing.

He’d only confuse himself further.

“I should go,” Alec said, pretending the words didn’t feel as though he were twisting a knife between his own ribs, cutting himself off from something he _wanted_ more than he’d ever wanted anything—

But he _couldn’t_.

He’d done exactly what Magnus had suggested earlier that evening—he’d had another drink, he’d waited, and then he’d made his decision. It was, perhaps, not a decision Magnus could or would understand, but it was the right decision. Alec was the older brother, and it was his job to take care of his siblings and the rest of his family.

And that was what he was going to do.

No matter what he wanted or how unfair it was.

He stood, numbly wandering towards the front door of Magnus’ loft, ignoring the soft patter of Magnus’ bare feet against the hardwood floor as he followed him.

“If that’s what you want,” Magnus finally replied quietly, leaning back against the wall with a sort of resigned quality that Alec couldn’t _stand_ seeing in the warlock. Magnus’ eyes were shining, his lips were slightly swollen from their more frantic kisses, and the sight of him made Alec’s heart skip a beat.

“It doesn’t matter what I want.”

Magnus leaned against the doorjamb when Alec opened the door and stepped through, a sad sort of smile tugging on the older man’s lips. “Perhaps one day you’ll believe me when I tell you that what you want matters more than anything.”

Alec didn’t say anything—there was honestly nothing he could say to that.

“G’night, Magnus,” he finally settled on, allowing himself one more look at the warlock before he turned and walked down the landing, feeling Magnus’ eyes burning into his back.

“Goodnight, Alexander.”

Magnus’ words had barely registered in Alec’s mind before he heard the door click shut, and he froze on the steps, briefly attempting to shake the ominous feeling that the sound of Magnus’ door shutting behind him signified an end. It should not matter—he couldn’t start anything with the warlock, even if he’d want to.

It shouldn’t matter.

It did anyway. 

**Author's Note:**

> Also, just for the record, I've used direct quotes from the scene depicting Malec's first kiss from CC :D All kudos to her! <3 
> 
> Here's the link to that :D  
> \--- http://cassandraclare.com/excerpts-extras/kissed/


End file.
